“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” ~Annie Dillard
New leaves burst out and lit up in the morning sun yesterday as I drove to work. I was already 10 minutes late, but I had to stop and take a few pictures of the spring green splashing across the land.
I’ve been thinking about the quality of days, of life, and how the things we do during the day might define us if we let them, but what’s more important is how much we open ourselves to see. This is my typical day: I wake up, eat breakfast, nurse Waylon, drive to work, sit at the computer most of the day, drive home, hug Waylon, catch up with Edge in the garden, eat dinner, go to sleep.
But if I say it like this, you’ll never know the sense of immediacy that pulled me out of the car as I drove yesterday–how when the spring unfurls and wakes up the earth in green I wake up, too. If I tell you the actions of my day without telling you the quality of my breath, what do you know about me?
How we spend our days is how we spend our lives. If you are doing something you don’t like, don’t let this sentiment scare you. Instead, open your eyes. Look for the leaves unfurling. Know that these trees are rooted in place, that they cannot tell the road crew to stop building a new road, or tell the drivers to slow down as they drive past. These trees are rooted in place, and so they reach to the sky, they bloom in the spring and leaf out in the sun.
Whatever you are doing, you have the choice to bloom, to set out your leaves, to root yourself to the earth and reach into the sky. Whatever you are doing, you have the choice to notice the life that is unfurling around you. You have the choice to let yourself unfurl, too.